


Use Your Words

by Yours_Truly_Commander_Shepard



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Desk Sex, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Office Party, Office Sex, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Use Your Words, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-07-27 10:18:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16216994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yours_Truly_Commander_Shepard/pseuds/Yours_Truly_Commander_Shepard
Summary: “What do you like to do, then?” Ben asked, still watching her.Rey thought about that for a second.  Ask for what you want, the bartender said.  She eyed Ben’s muscular shoulders.  Yeah, he’d do.“I’d like you to fuck me in the third-floor conference room,” she said, swallowing the last cocktail olive.* * *Now with a Waffle House epilogue!





	1. Use Your Words

**Author's Note:**

> One more modern AU Reylo fic into the trash heap.

Rey glared despondently at the little plastic toothpick holding three olives.  She didn’t really like vodka.  She liked olives.  But when she asked the bartender for a “dirty martini, extra dirty, extra olives,” all she got was this little glass of cloudy liquid with perhaps one surplus olive on a stick.  Her drink order had gone about as well as the rest of her evening.

She’d asked Finn to come with her to this over-catered office shindig - Finn, the work-husband she’d thought she was kind-of seeing until she walked in on him with Poe Dameron’s cock in his mouth in the second-floor conference room.  Finn did not look guilty to be caught there, only mildly embarrassed.  And when Rey examined the totality of her interactions with Finn--two off-campus lunches and one Friday-afternoon set of drinks at the bar down the block—she realized that Finn had no idea she’d hoped that this evening would end with the two of **_them_** naked in a room, rather than the two of Finn and Poe.  Plus Rose.  Rose fucking Tico!  Rose Tico, who was making out with Poe’s _upper_ half when Rey walked in, looking for Finn. 

She could hardly blame Finn for hooking up with Poe.  Most of the office had **_already_** hooked up with Poe, given the hair, and the eyes, and the sleepy, come-hither smile the man deployed against friend and foe alike. Rey would have hooked up with Poe, given half a chance.  But Rose Tico!  Rose didn’t have any more game than Rey, didn’t wear makeup to the office, or flirt, or make inappropriate workplace jokes.

How did Rose Tico end up naked in a conference room, while Rey Jackson was drinking olive-flavored vodka alone?  Rey wasn’t jealous.  She just wanted to know.  What were the things you said to people to let them know you were open to undressed-dark-conference-room-type activities?  Rey wanted to know, because nobody ever asked her to do them. 

She was wearing a tight black dress that made the most of her meager curves.  She’d shaved.  Everything. Her underwear were pretty.  She was wearing lipstick.  And Finn had no clue she'd wanted anything other than a shared ride back to the office this Saturday night. 

“Do you want me to make you something else?” the bartender asked her. 

The bartender was a short, stout, and elderly woman with glasses as thick as wine coasters.  She nodded at the barely-touched glass in Rey’s hand.

“Oh, this is fine,” Rey said absently.  Her vague plan was to hang out by the bar for a few more minutes, check in with a few other co-workers as they got their drinks, then drive home.  This was her first drink; she didn’t really like alcohol. She liked olives.  The remainder of her co-workers were well on the way to fully baked, since management had spared no expense for this event and the bar had been open for more than two hours at this point. 

“What did you really want?” the bartender pressed Rey.  

Rey stared at the forlorn little spike floating in her drink.

“For you to fill a glass with olives, then pour a shot of gin over that,” Rey confessed. 

The bartender scoffed. ‘Maz,’ her nametag read.

“Why didn’t you just say so?” she asked, retrieving Rey’s original drink from her hands and opening a new jar of cocktail olives.  “If you want to get anything you want in this life, girl, you got to ask for it.”

Maz returned the glass of olives to Rey and handed her a plastic fork. 

“You go get it now, girl,” she firmly instructed Rey.  

Rey scoffed. 

“Get what now?” she asked. 

“Whatever you want,” the bartender said, turning back to her prep station. 

Rey took her little glass and fork and walked towards a group of couches at the outskirts of the large lobby of Resistance Enterprises, planning to sit and eat her prize in solitude. 

There was one other person already seated in the little square grouping, and she didn’t see him until she was almost there.  This corner of the lobby was opposite the DJ and the dance floor, and had not been lit for the occasion.  Ben Solo was sitting mostly in the dark, drinking scotch, and brooding, which was, if Rey had thought about it, exactly where she would have expected him to be. 

Ben wasn’t one of the original Resistance employees who’d started the company five years ago.  He wasn’t even one of the research staff, like Finn and Rey, who’d joined two years ago to get the company's innovative chemotherapy pump through FDA clearance.  No, he was part of the turnaround team that Resistance’s lender, First Order, brought in six months prior to salvage the little startup and see it through to its inevitable third-party sale.  Ben was, as Poe put it, “the enemy.”  He wasn’t there because he believed in their product.  He was there to extract every last dollar for his faceless corporate overlords before stripping Resistance Enterprises of all value and firing most of the staff.

This party was to celebrate the pump's FDA approval.  Most of the staff expected layoffs to begin on Monday.  Rey already had resumes out for her next job. 

It was too late for Rey to alter her destination, though, so she sat down next to him and put her olives on the coffee table. 

Ben tilted his glass back at her in greeting.

“Ben,” she said companionably. 

“Rey,” he agreed, swallowing more scotch.

There was a pregnant silence while Rey looked him over. 

This was the first time she’d seen him out of a suit.  A good suit (the only kind he wore) could carve any man into a respectable figure, but tonight Ben was wearing a close-fitting black wool sweater over tailored slacks.  Also black. Ben’s skin tone told the world he spent little time on the beaches of Northern California, but the way his sweater cradled his torso told Rey he was spending that free time at the gym instead.  

Ben looked like he was having perhaps the worst day of his life.  He had dark purple circles under his eyes, and his lips were compressed in a tight line against the edge of his glass when he sipped from it. 

“Enjoying the party?” he asked after a long silence. 

“Not really,” Rey confessed. “Parties aren’t really my thing.”  

Ben met her eyes, really focusing on her for the first time Rey could remember.  It was a more pleasant feeling than she might have expected, being the complete focus of Ben Solo’s attention.  

“I can’t decide whether he’s oddly attractive, or attractively odd,” Jessika told Rey the first morning Ben Solo came to the office, awkwardly addressing the assembled staff and assuring them that he shared their goals and would ensure their product dominated the market within a year.  Rey had shared Jessika’s assessment, until Ben fired their old director of marketing, Han, who hadn’t been good at his job but everyone had liked, and it came out that that was his dad, and they’d all agreed they were going to hate Ben Solo. 

“What do you like to do, then?” Ben asked, still watching her. 

Rey thought about that for a second.  Ask for what you want, the bartender said.  She eyed Ben’s muscular shoulders.  Yeah, he’d do. 

“I’d like you to fuck me in the third-floor conference room,” she said, swallowing the last olive.

Ben Solo choked on his scotch.  A few drops dribbled off his full red lips onto his sweater.  He gasped and coughed alcohol out of his lungs, wiping his mouth off on his forearm. 

Rey would have pounded him on the back, but she figured that kind of gesture was counterproductive to being the kind of girl who got pounded in conference rooms instead. 

“I’m sorry,” Ben said, taking another swallow of his drink in an effort to stave off a further coughing fit.  “I thought you said…”  His pale cheeks flushed.  Yes, he really was good-looking, now that she studied him. 

“Yes, I said it.”  Rey affirmed evenly. 

Ben’s mouth was open a little as he studied her face.  His jaw worked back and forth as he considered her.

“Yeah, ok,” he said, gulping down the rest of his drink and rising to his feet. 

 * * * 

Ben kept **_looking_** at her as they crossed the lobby to the elevator. She hit the button for 3, then tilted her head up to meet his gaze.  There was a lot of Ben Solo to look up to- he just slouched so much it was hard to notice. 

“I thought you were at this party with that guy from accounts payable.  Finn,” he said.

He’d noticed?

“As it turns out, I am not,” Rey informed him, hooking his pinkie finger with her own.  He let her. 

“Are you drunk?” he asked her softly. 

“No.  Worried about HR?” she asked him, with a sideways twist of her lips. 

He shook his head. “It’s just- things like this don’t really happen to me,” he confessed.

Rey laid her hand on the center of his chest.

“Me either,” she said. “That’s why- I decided to try asking for what I wanted.”

Ben swallowed hard at that, then leaned down to kiss her.

His lips were soft and uncertain against hers, and Rey was ready to push back against him when the door chimed and opened, startling them both.

Ben stuck his head out the elevator doors and looked left and right, which Rey found unexpectedly charming.  She grabbed his arm (firm!) and tugged him out and down the deserted hallway.

This floor was laid out identically to the one below it, so Rey was confident in her directions when she located the conference room door and shoved Ben up against it. 

Ben tasted like scotch and felt like the answer to the question she’d asked the bartender.  Her tongue grazed the roof of his mouth as she heard him scrabble with the door handle and pull her through when it opened. The conference room was dark and empty, and she continued her rotational momentum by pulling him after her and pressing him against the long, marble table dominating the room.  He kicked the door shut as he went, then came to rest with his hands braced to his sides against the table. 

His pupils were wide and dark, and he was already breathing a little faster, whether out of nerves or arousal.  

Rey decided to climb him like a tree, and tossed her arms around his shoulders when she rushed him. Ben caught her in his arms and quickly made a cradle for her ass to rest in as she slid down his thighs.

He held her up as she straddled his legs and kissed him.  He was a good kisser- he didn’t overwhelm her, but grazed her lower lip with just a hint of teeth.   His hands palmed her ass through her dress as she ground down on his lap and ran her nails through his hair.

It was thick and dark and softer than she’d expected.  It also smelled incredible- she supposed he could afford salon products, and was clever enough to use them.  She pulled off his lips and kissed the smattering of beauty marks on his face, then his crooked jaw.  He groaned.

“I think I’m hallucinating,” he muttered. 

“Why?” Rey asked breathlessly, leaning back to grab the bottom of his sweater and pull it up his chest. She got it up to his arms but had to slide off his lap to pull it all the way off.  She pressed up between his legs to start work on the buttons of the (black) shirt he wore underneath.

“Like I said, things like this don’t happen to me.  Women like you don’t happen to me,” he clarified, leaning forward to kiss the tops of her breasts over her low neckline.  Thank god for push-up bras, so there was something there for him to touch, at least until she took her clothes off. 

“You’re kidding,” Rey said, finally getting the last button undone and exposing his chest.   Her eyes widened.  “You’re rich and you’ve apparently got an eight-pack.  How are you failing to make that work for you?”

He blushed prettily at that, either because of her words or because she turned her attention to his belt buckle.

“I hear I’m kind of an asshole,” he said, pulling her forward and running his lips down her neck. He sucked her earlobe into his mouth and bit down slightly, letting his teeth graze the edge of her ear as he pulled back. 

“Mmm, I hear that too,” Rey had to confess.  “But I hear that I’m just too innocent to take home, soooo…” 

They paused, and gave each other a look of mutual sympathy. 

“Can I?” Ben asked, lifting his hands to the zipper at the back of her dress.  She nodded, and cold air down her back made her shiver as he pulled her dress apart.  It puddled at her feet and she nudged it to the side with the heel of her pumps.  She braced herself against Ben’s knee and bent to take her shoes off, but-

“Can you-“ Ben interrupted her.  He swallowed hard.  “Can you keep them on?” 

He was adorable.  She straightened and nodded, grinning widely.

“See?  We both just need to start asking for what we want,” she told him, leaning in to nibble at his Adam’s apple.  He whimpered in agreement, setting his hands on her torso.

She hadn’t noticed it, but his hands were almost absurdly large.  She leaned back slightly and spread one of them across her ribcage.  It spanned the entire thing.  She huffed in amusement.  The tips of his fingers toyed with the little lace bow between her breasts as he stared down at her chest.

It was nice, how intent Ben was.  He listened when people talked to him, she knew that already.  But having that focus directed at her when she was standing in her bra and panties…that was nicer. 

He fumbled with the clasp on the back of her bra until she helped him and shook it off.  He stood up then, looming over her, and said,

“Let’s switch.”

She didn’t see any reason to refuse, so she hopped onto the table and let her heels dangle from her feet. She grabbed him by the belt buckle and hauled him closer to her.  He came, but lowered himself to both knees on the floor in front of her.  He leaned forward to kiss a path from the corner of her mouth, to the point of her jaw, to her collarbones, and then to her breasts. She thought he might take her nipples in his mouth, but instead he simply swept the flat of his tongue against them and mumbled,

“CanIgodownonyou?” 

His gaze up through dark lashes was imploring. 

Well sure.  If he insisted.  He used his words and asked nicely and everything.  

(She had really, really hoped he would, but it had seemed like too much to ask for when she was the one who dragged him up to the third-floor conference room in the first place).  

“Yeah alright,” she nodded vigorously.  He grabbed the lace sides of her panties to pull her closer to the edge of the table, then pulled them down over her legs.  With his teeth.  That was a nice touch, ten points to Ben Solo, she thought.  She’d have to ask for that the next time.  

He shuffled forward between her knees, laying kisses against her inner thighs.  He was clean-shaven- he must have showered right before coming to this party.  Oh.  He was trying to look nice tonight, she thought.  

He dipped one shoulder to pull her leg up against his neck, then reconsidered and grabbed the other, trapping his head between her thighs. 

He gave one long exploratory lick all the way up from her asshole to her clit.  His eyes widened when he felt how wet she was. Embarrassingly wet.  Her legs reflexively clenched around him, and she forced herself to relax her hips apart. 

“Oh,” Rey said, her voice a bit strangled.  “I’m afraid I’m going to accidentally kill you if you keep doing that like that.”

He stopped and looked up with her, a smile floating around the corners of his mouth.  

“I’ll tap out if I feel I’m in danger,” he told her.

“Right, go on then,” Rey sighed, leaning back on her elbows so she could watch the man work.

The marble of the conference table was icy against her back, but Ben’s mouth was molten lava against her core. 

She didn’t have much basis for comparison, but the man ate pussy like he did everything else- single-mindedly, thoroughly, and directly.  He gripped her thighs with his hands, pulling them apart so he could press his entire lower face against her folds.  His proud nose nudged her clit as he speared her with his tongue, then dragged it up to circle her clit and suck it into his mouth.  

The couple (truly, two) times this had been done to her before, the boy had licked at her desultorily and in a rush to get on to the main event.  But Ben wasn’t looking up at her to find out if he could be done yet. He was looking up at her to see what made her squirm, and what made her pant, and what made her moan.

“Fingers?” he asked her, face pressed to her inner thigh and warm breath gusting against her lips. 

“Yes please,” she said properly, closing her eyes. 

Ben leaned up, the top of his head pressed against her stomach, to give himself room to work.  He pressed one bare fingertip into her pussy, wetting it and lifting it to circle around her clit.  Then he slid it back through her folds and pumped it into her. She opened her eyes again to see him watching her, his expression dark and hungry.  

He gripped her hip hard enough to bruise and slid a second finger into her.  She’d been suppressing her urge to move her lips for some time now, and the combination of his two long fingers inside her, his thumb just grazing against her ass, and his lips tight around her bud made her lose all her manners and just buck against his face, fucking herself on his face and fingers.  

She felt the tension in her back dissolve in electric shocks, and she came around his fingers, burbling some combination of his name, the word ‘fuck,’ and a string of blasphemy. 

Ben was looking up at her with an expression that was both shy and awed when she opened her eyes again. He swiped his cheek off against her inner thigh, but then lifted his fingers up as though he was going to lick them clean.

“No,” Rey said.  “Let me.”  She let her legs fall off his shoulders but then flexed her heels into his back to pull him back closer to her as she sat up.  She wrapped her legs around his still-clothed lower body and used his body as a support when she took his hand and slipped the two fingers that had been inside her into her own mouth. 

She sucked on them, tasting the salt of his skin and her own tang. 

“Jesus fuck, Rey,” he whimpered, leaning forward and splaying his free hand on the desk. “You’re going to wreck me.”  

She smiled, letting his fingers pop out of her mouth with a wet sound.  She looked down to where he was tenting the front of his trousers, and the small wet spot either she or he had left there. 

She lifted her lips to his again, briefly, tasting herself.  His lips were soft and swollen  and wet against hers, and on the edge of sloppy with need.  When she broke for air, she told him there were condoms in her purse.

He paused for a breath, and she braced herself for some kind of comment on her preparation for this evening, but he only gave her a brilliant smile. 

God, happy to be getting laid was the only attitude she **_ever_** wanted to see on a man, ever again. 

He retrieved her small shoulder bag off the floor and fished out the packet of condoms, handing them to her after studying them for a second.

“Do you mind?” he asked. “My hands are a little shaky and I…” 

“Not at all,” she said, wrapping her legs around his lower thighs loosely and putting the box next to her while she undid his trousers. 

Once she got his belt and the top button undone, his heavy flannel trousers fell right to the door, uninterrupted by anything like undergarments. 

“Oh,” Rey said, momentarily dumbstruck.

“Anything wrong?” Ben asked in a concerned tone, palming the base of his cock, which nearly curved up to his navel. 

“I don’t know why I’m surprised,” Rey said, shaking her head.  “You’re big everywhere else.” 

“Is it ok?” he said, rubbing one hand reflexively up his shaft and around the glossy, weeping head. 

Rey swallowed hard. “I think it’s going to be better than that,” she said, shimmying down off the table. 

She unwrapped a condom and pulled it over him as he hissed through his teeth.  Then she turned around and braced herself against the edge of the table. The cool stone made her tits turn into hard buttons against it. 

“Go slow at first,” she told him.  “Just so I can get used to you.  Then hard and fast, ok?” she was proud of herself for how her voice didn’t shake. And for asking for what she wanted.

“How are you real?” Ben whispered, reaching out with one (shaking, yes) hand and spreading her open. 

“I made a lot of birthday wishes that didn’t come true,” Rey said as he pressed the tip of himself against her to confirm his position. 

“I’ll give you whatever you want,” he gasped, pushing forward in small movements, inch by inch. 

“Just fuck me like you mean it,” she said, holding tighter to the table and gripping the edges, praying her feet didn’t slip.

When he could move in and out of her freely, he leaned forward over her so he could wrap a hand around her front and pull her nipples with his talented fingers. 

“Jesus, Rey, your perfect little cunt,” he said, grunting as she squeezed him intimately. 

Rey was quickly passing beyond intelligible conversation, but she moaned her appreciation for his comments.

Ben was a talker, she found. Her tits were fantastic.  He was going to come harder than he ever had in his life.  She had the best ass he’d ever seen. He was the luckiest fucking man in the world. She drank in his praise like a desert takes the rain, even if she couldn’t respond with anything but the barest animal noises and his name.  He didn’t seem to mind.

His thrusts were growing harder and less coordinated.  The noises they were making were obscene- their panting breaths, the slap of his hips on her ass and his balls against her pussy- and she could feel he was close. 

“In me,” she gasped. She couldn’t bear the thought of him pulling out of her.  He groaned and she could feel the butterfly-wing pulse of his cock inside her. But of course he had to pull out afterward, his hand holding the ring of the condom as he stepped away, cold air giving her goosebumps as their bodies separated.  

He’d never even gotten completely free of his trousers, and he pulled them up over his hips abruptly so that he could stagger to the trash and dispose of the condom. 

Rey pressed her legs together as she turned to watch him move away, feeling swollen and sticky and perfect.  She finally took the opportunity to kick the heels off.  She’d have blisters tomorrow, and she didn’t give a damn. 

Ben’s muscular chest was gleaming with a slick of sweat, and his breath was still coming quickly.  He looked her up and down, then lurched forward to give her a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. 

“Sorry,” he said, breaking away.  “That was…” he looked for a word. 

“Exactly what I wanted,” she finished his sentence.

“Yeah,” he agreed, in a shuddering rush of breath. 

Rey took his chin in her hand and kissed him again, just as there came pounding on the door. 

“Ben?  Are you in there?” an annoyed British voice demanded. “Phasma saw you go upstairs and we need to talk about…”

Ben had just enough time to block the view of her naked body from the door before Hux pushed it open and immediately shrieked in outrage. 

“Good God, Solo, I may need to put my eyes out!  Why aren’t you dressed?”

“Shut the fucking door, Hux!” Ben snapped, and the ginger fled, arm over his face. 

Ben turned around to apologize profusely, but Rey couldn’t come up with even a hint of anger, only suppressed giggles that turned into outright snorts.

“Conference rooms are the literal worst place in the world to do this,” she said, grabbing her dress off the ground. 

Then she decided to use her words a little more. 

“I’d like you to take me home,” she said firmly, looking up at Ben Solo, who looked like he was having perhaps the best day of his life. 

He processed that for a second.

“Yeah, ok,” he said. 


	2. Waffle House Epilogue

The long bank of windows under the golden awning were a bulwark against the night.  Rey suggested that they stop for coffee and a bite before heading back to her place, and Ben would have agreed to any request she made before she zipped her dress back up.   

Now they sat like modern-day Nighthawks at the vacant counter- too late for dinner, too early for the tide of barhoppers who would roll in after last call and swamp the single waitress who dawdled behind the register, lingering in earshot and casting knowing glances at them.

Rey’s heels were occupying the stool to her left, and Ben’s jacket covered the stool to his right. Between them, a single waffle. Its toppings reflected a hasty compromise between their respective tastes: chocolate and peanut butter chips both adorned the hot griddle-cake in sugary profusion.  Rey shot Ben a challenging glance before adding syrup. 

He cleared his throat and gamely began to cut the waffle into precise squares. 

“I would have taken you out some place nice,” he began.  “You know. Anywhere you wanted to go. We still could.” 

Rey blinked at him. “This is where I wanted to go,” she pointed out. 

He clenched his jaw, not meeting her eyes.  “I know. I just- I didn’t want you to think.”

She reached over and patted his leg, letting her hand linger longer than was strictly necessary on his thigh. 

“It’s fine.  If you still want to buy me a fancy dinner after you’ve slept with me a second time, believe me, I’ll let you.  I never turn down free food.”

“Oh,” he said, dark eyes softening at her reassurance.  “Is that what we’re doing next?”

She shrugged. “There’s not a lot else to do at my apartment.  I don’t own a TV and it’s just a studio.  It’s either sex or I show you my knitting.  Which isn’t a euphemism.”

“A sweater?” Ben asked.

“No, socks,” she told him.    

He nodded like that made total sense, that a bioengineer would live in a studio apartment with a bunch of yarn and no electronics. 

He didn’t even know about all the houseplants and paper-making supplies yet.  

They finished their respective halves of the waffle, and Ben pulled a few bills out of his wallet to leave on the counter.

He was oddly slow to actually stand though, even when Rey slipped her heels back on to go. 

“I like Waffle House too,” he finally said, apropos of nothing.  He hesitated, as though reluctant to say more. 

“Yeah?” Rey asked, encouraging him to continue. 

He pulled his wool jacket back over his shoulders, hands clenching on his lapels. 

“It was rough, at my house. My parents.  They fought a lot.  I used to come here.” 

Rey pulled his hand off his coat, held it delicately in her own.

He cleared his throat again. “I used to do my homework here. Even all night long.  It felt safe.  Calm.  Normal.” 

“I know what you mean,” she whispered. 

He clenched her hand, face softening into something much younger and more vulnerable. 

She leaned up to kiss him lightly on his full lower lip. 

“I think you’ll like my place too,” she whispered.  Ben swallowed, nodding.

"I do too," he whispered back.  "I think I'll like everything about you."   

“Y’all come back, you hear?” the waitress said, waving them farewell into the night


End file.
